Bella's Secret
by Fandom Franchise
Summary: Edward's back, but Bella struggles to cope with his absence. She has nightmares, can't eat, and cuts herself. (Story contains self-harm)
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Twilight. All rights belong to Stephenie Meyer.**

**A/N: This story contains self-harm and eating disorders. The intention of this FanFiction is to bring awareness to these subjects, not to encourage it in anyway. If you or someone you know has one of these problems, please get help immediately.**

Someone roughly shook my body. "Wake up! Bella, wake up!"

The voice was rough. The hands were warm. It was not my angel.

Still, I opened my eyes, grateful that someone had pulled me out of my nightmare. My hair was plastered to my forehead, my hands were wet and sticky, my throat was sore, probably from screaming.

Charlie leaned over me, his expression tense and worried. "Are you alright?" He questioned.

_No. Absolutely not. No way in hell._ I wanted to say. But I didn't.

"I'm fine. Just a nightmare." I responded to put his mind at ease.

He didn't believe me, I could see it in his eyes. "Dad, really, I'm fine. I don't even remember what I was dreaming about", I lied.

I am proud to say that I am becoming a good liar— maybe even a great liar. I did it so often that it had become second nature to me.

"Um— alright. I'll let you go back to sleep," he mumbled as he turned for the door. He hesitated, hand on the knob. I thought maybe he'd turn around and say something else to me. He didn't, though. He simply stepped into the dark hallway and shut the door behind him.

I scurried into the bathroom, adrenaline pumping through my veins. I opened the cabinet under the sink, and let my hand explore the contents of the drawer until my fingers found the cold metal of a razor. Relieved, I turned on the faucet and watched the water run red.


	2. Chapter 2

It was early when I woke again, a little after six. I drowsily sauntered into the bathroom to shower and brush my teeth. Edward would arrive any minute.

Sure enough, as soon as I stepped out of the bathroom, cold arms swept me off my feet and carried me onto my bed. I giggled as gentle lips showered my face in tender kisses.

"I've missed you," his silken voice whispered.

"Me too," I replied. You have no idea.

I went a little crazy when Edward left in September— okay, a lot crazy. I stopped smiling, eating, caring— I pretty much stopped living. But now that he was back, I was completely healed. Everything was back to the way it was before he left— well, mostly everything. I acquired some nasty habits when Edward departed, and those habits haven't quite gone away yet.

"What are we doing today?" I questioned, excited to spend a day alone with Edward.

"I thought maybe we could just stay here today, since Charlie's out," he answered. "We could watch a movie, finish our homework, maybe even go to the meadow. . ." His smile morphed from happy and carefree into the mischievous, crooked grin I loved so much. "But first, let's do this," he said as his lips pressed onto mine.

His mouth was gentle, almost lazy as it touched my skin. I, as usual, wanted a to deepen the kiss. My fingers tugged his hair, securing his face to mine. He pulled me closer to his chest, and his cold tongue traced my bottom lip. My hands crawled under his shirt, feeling the tight muscles on his abdomen. With a groan, he pulled away. His eyes were far off and lustful. I imagined I had the same expression.

Without another word, he scooped me into his arms and carried me to the little table in the kitchen. He set me in my usual spot, and busied himself with making me breakfast.

I stood up. "Edward, you don't have to make me breakfast. I'm not even hungry."

"I want to, I like cooking for you," he responded, throwing me a smile. He pranced towards me, placed his hands on my shoulders, and guided me back into my seat.

"Really, Edward, don't bother. I'm not hungry." I tried to get up again, but he his marble hands restrained me to the chair.

"Bella. . ." He groaned. I knew his voice well enough to identify the slight edge to it. The sharpness in his tone indicated that he was going to bring IT back up again— that time when he left. He talked about IT quite a bit— more often than I wished he would. I tried to ignore what happened, but he confronted the truth.

"Bella, please?" His eyes closed, and his face scrunched in pain. "I have. . . I have noticed that you lost weight since I left, and it— it scares me. You're beautiful, so beautiful. . .I just don't want you to harm your body. Please, Bella. . .please, for me? Will you just please eat some breakfast?"

I groaned. I couldn't deny him when he begged like that; I gave in every time. He could see that I had caved, so he gave me a gentle smile, pecked me on the cheek, and sauntered back to the kitchen to finish the food preparations.

"That's not fair, you know," I told him.

"What's not fair, Love?" He asked innocently. He knew exactly what.

"It's not fair that you use my weaknesses against me. You know I can't stand to see you in pain, so you use your pain to get what you want."

He chuckled a little. "Sorry, Love. It's the only way I can win an argument. You always have the upper hand."

"Edward Cullen!" I exclaimed. "I, in no way, have the upper hand. Between you dazzling me, outsmarting me, and downright cheating to get what you want, I have lost practically every argument we've ever had."

He chuckled, but otherwise said nothing.

A few minutes later, he placed a plate of steamy food in front of me. I all but cringed away from the smell.

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I promise I'll be good from now on." He apologized, a playful smile dancing at the edge of his lips.

"You better." I teased.

I took a deep breath and put a pile of scrambled eggs in my mouth, trying to chew without my tongue touching the food. It tasted disgusting, but what else was new?

"Does it taste alright?" Edward asked, a concerned crease pressing into his forehead. Damn, he must have noticed my disgusted expression.

"It's delicious," I lied, "just like always." He bought my lie. His face relaxed.

Like I said before, I have become the world's greatest liar. I could even fool Edward Cullen. I was pretty proud of myself.

After eating a few more bites of his breakfast, I started feeling nauseous. I really hated eating so much. I got up, cleared the table, and started the dishwasher. Edward helped.

"Hey, Edward?" I asked.

"Yes, Love?"

"I left my red shirt at your house, and I really wanted to wear it today. Do you think you could go get it for me?"

"I have an idea, why don't I call Alice and have her bring it over. Then she can hang out with us for awhile." He replied.

"No. No, I don't want to inconvenience her. Besides, I kind of wanted it to be just the two of us today." I sounded a little frantic. I hoped he didn't notice.

"Of course, Love. I'll go get it. I'll be right back." He responded. He kissed me quickly and disappeared.

I never thought in a million years that I would want Edward to leave, but that's exactly what I needed right now. Just for a minute.

I ran up the stairs to the bathroom and closed the door behind me. I knew this was risky, and I tried to avoid risks at all costs. I had to be smart about this stuff. I had to do it when I knew he couldn't find out about it— usually when he was hunting. But I really needed this. I felt sick, I could feel the food just sitting in my stomach. Disgusting. I put my finger down my throat and threw up. I did it again and again. Even after there was nothing left in my stomach.

I flushed the toilet. Twice. And threw some bleach in it for good measure. I wasn't sure if he'd still be able to smell the vomit.

I made my way downstairs and started cleaning up the house. It wasn't long before Edward flew in the door.

"Bella, I couldn't find the shirt. I couldn't smell it anywhere. Are you sure you left it at my house?"

"Huh. Did you check your room? Thats where I thought I left it. Maybe I left it somewhere else?" I lied. I didn't even own a red shirt.

"Bella, you know you can tell me to leave if you don't want me around. You won't hurt my feelings."

Uh-oh. He was suspicious. I had to put him at ease.

I laughed as if I found his statement funny. "Edward, you're absurd. I wasn't trying to kick you out, I just needed my shirt."

"Is everything alright, Bella? You've been acting strange lately. You seem kind of. . .I dont know. . . secretive lately. You know you can tell me anything, right?"

I was close to cracking. I almost broke down then and there and told him the awful truth. For a second I had the whole conversation planned in my head. No, Edward, everything's not alright. I can't stop myself from doing terrible things. I can't eat, I have terrible nightmares, I cut my wrists. Help me.

"Everything's fine, Edward," I promised, although I couldn't look him in the eye as I said it.

He sighed. He didn't believe me, but didn't press me to tell the truth. "Let's go to our meadow," he announced. That sounded good to me.


	3. Chapter 3

Charlie came home a little after five. Edward had left a few minutes earlier, as Charlie disapproved of Edward's constant presence in the house. I made Charlie dinner, and busied myself with homework. This was the worst time of the day. The time where I had to be apart from Edward until Charlie went to bed. It was a tedious time, where I accomplished the chores and homework that I neglected to do when Edward was around.

"Hey, Bells?" Charlie called from downstairs.

I made my way to the living room, where my dad was getting up from the couch.

"I was just headed over to Billy's place. There's a game on. Do you want to come? You haven't seen Jake in ages."

Edward would kill me, and then kill me again, if he found out I went over to La Push.

I shook my head. "No thanks, Dad, maybe next time. I still have homework to do."

"Alright, Bells. I'll be back later. Call me at Billy's if you need anything."

"Sure thing, Dad."

I headed back upstairs, and watched out my bedroom window as Charlie pulled out the driveway and headed down the street. His tail lights disappeared around the corner.

Well, great. I had absolutely nothing to do. My homework was done, diner was cleaned up, Edward wouldn't be back until who knows when. I really wasn't the type of person who liked having spare time on my hands. It made me. . . anxious. It gave me time to think about all the stuff I really didn't want to think about.

I paced around the room, trying to find something to distract me. It was too dark outside to go for a walk. I could read a book or watch T.V, but decided against it since I was too energetic to do something sedentary.

God, did I mention how much I hate it when Edward leaves? It brought up all that stuff that I really just didn't want to deal with.

Bella, I'm leaving.

Bella, this is the last time you'll see me.

Bella, I don't want you to come.

I really couldn't take any of it anymore— the voices in my head, the flashbacks, the memories. It hurt too much, like a knife slicing me in the chest. I had told Edward that I was fine, that I felt like my old self now that he was back. That was just one of the millions of lies I'd told since he left. It couldn't be more wrong. The truth is, there's an invisible knife hanging over my chest, and every time Edward leaves, that knife cuts me open. It's torture. Every time I get patched up again, the knife rips out the stitching.

Somehow I felt so much better when I replaced the emotional cuts with the physical ones. I had no control over that invisible knife, It did whatever it wanted to me. I was at it's mercy. But I had control over the one in my hand. I told it what to do, I told it where to cut. It was funny how one little incision on the wrist could make me feel so much better.

I made my way to the bathroom, and relaxed once my fingers grasped the cold metal of the razor.

I cut too deep this time. I knew it the second I saw my wrist. Blood poured from my veins and gushed into the sink like a waterfall. I grabbed a towel to try to stop the bleeding. I still grew nauseous at the smell of blood, even though I'd smelt it pretty regularly. I took a deep breath out of my mouth and tried to keep a clear head. Should I call 911? Was it that serious? No, if I went to the hospital Charlie would find out, Edward would find out, everyone would find out. That wasn't an option.

I was really panicking now. I knew that cutting my wrists was risky, I wasn't stupid. I knew that people could die from it. Was it really that bad though? I wasn't sure. I decided to stick it out, see if I could get it to stop on it's own.

The towel was stained a deep red, almost black color by the time it finally stopped bleeding. I was glad, so glad, that I didn't call the hospital. Everything would be ruined if I had made the call. Besides some minor blood loss, I was as good as new. I was relieved that my little secret was safe, though I internally vowed to never cut so deep again.

I wrapped a gauze around my wrist, just for good measure, and threw the soiled towel in a grocery bag. Then I headed outside and threw the bag in the neighbor's trashcan. I doubted Edward would notice it there.

I was tired. Probably from the blood loss. I climbed into bed, and even though it wasn't even 8:00 yet, I fell fast asleep.

Edward kissed me awake, as usual. He waited in my room as I prepared for school. I really wasn't looking forward to another week of tedious classwork. I guess you could say that I developed a serious case of senioritis.

Spanish was first hour, and I dreaded going to it. It was one of the few classes I didn't have with Edward, and that made it all the worse.

We were reviewing today for a big test next class. I couldn't seem to focus on irregular subjunctive conjugation like the rest of my classmates. My mind was elsewhere. I excused myself from class and went to the bathroom for a nice little break.

I rolled up my sleeves as I prepared to wash my hands in the sink, and the bandage around my wrist caught my eye. I peeled away the gauze and studied the scar on my skin. It was a pretty gruesome cut, I had to admit. The wound was red and angry, the skin around it puffy and bruised. When I pressed down on the scar, the skin turned white for a minute before returning red.

I decided that I wanted a little pain today. Edward was all the way across the school, in the gymnasium along with Alice. I was sure they wouldn't notice the smell of my blood. Besides, if they ever asked, I could make up some sort of lie about tripping down the stairs or something.

I pulled out a pair of scissors from my backpack, and placed it above the healing scar from last night. I pressed down, and was instantly rewarded with a searing pain I could feel all the way up my arm. The left side of my body throbbed with each heartbeat. It was great.

I ran my arm under the faucet for a little while, watching the warm water wash away the blood. Just like last night, I had some trouble getting the bleeding to stop. I grabbed some paper towels and tried to use pressure to force the bleeding to stop. It was getting late. If I was in here too long, Señora Castro would get suspicious, maybe even give me a detention. I wrapped my arm in paper towel, and then wrapped the gauze around the paper towel, and then headed back to class. Luckily, I wore a bulky sweatshirt today, which covered the bulge around my arm.

I could tell throughout Spanish class that my arm was still bleeding. I could feel the paper towel and gauze saturate with blood. I had to take care of this before class ended, otherwise Edward would smell the blood when he walked with me to second hour. I raised my hand and asked Señora if I could get a drink of water.

"Sí, Bella, pero esta es la última vez".

I went to the bathroom, and luckily got most of the bleeding to stop. It just sort of trickled out a little now. Relieved, I headed back to class.

The day passed slowly, as Mondays tend to. When I finally arrived home, I collapsed onto the couch. Edward chuckled at my exasperated position.

Edward helped me with homework, which was not the most exciting activity, but it was necessary. I was disappointed when 5:00 rolled around again, signaling Edward's departure and Charlie's arrival. I was really, really, really just not having a good day, and Edward leaving made it all the worse. As soon as he left I went upstairs to make another incision.

Oh, fuck. I really screwed up this time. I had never seen so much blood, never in my life. I couldn't get it to stop, or even slow down. It was in the sink, on the counter, pooling on the floor. My clothes were splattered, it glued into my hair. Damn it, oh fuck.

It kept coming and coming. I was crying now. Damn it, damn it, damn it. One thought kept running through my mind, THIS is how I'm going to die? After all the close calls, after all the rescue efforts, I'm going to kill myself?

I grabbed my cell phone.

"Bella?" the voice answered.

I was sobbing into the phone. "Edward, oh God, Edward. I-I cut my arm. I can't get it to stop bleeding. I'm losing so much blood." I was panicking now.

"Bella? Bella?" I could hear the urgency in his voice. "I'll be right over, I'm coming as fast as I can. Are you putting pressure on it? Put pressure on it, it'll help stop the bleeding."

"Edward, I'm sorry— so sorry." I cried into the phone "I'm scared."

"Bella, I'll be there in one second. Just stay where you are, it'll all be alright. Just stay calm, please, Sweetheart."

I looked at the floor, at the pool of red at my feet, and that was when I knew I was going to die.

"Edward" I practically yelled into the phone. "Edward, I'm sorry! I love you, please help me."

"I love you too, Bella. God, I love you so much. Please just stay calm. I'm almost there."

He was in the bathroom seconds later. He went into medical mode, tying the towel around my arm like a tourniquet.

"It's okay, Bella. It's alright. You're safe, you're alright." He chanted over and over, as he worked on my arm.

"I'm going to call Carlisle, okay? He'll take care of this. You'll be fine, I promise."

I was still crying— well, more like sobbing uncontrollably. God, what was wrong with me? I didn't freak out during my other near death experiences. I was cool as a cucumber. But I was completely falling apart this time.

Edward held me close as we waited for Carlisle. He set me on his lap, my face pressed into his shoulder as I cried and cried. He whispered reassurances into my ear, kissed my hair, and did a damn good job at keeping me calm.

Edward was still tightly pinching my tourniquet when Carlisle arrived.

Edward spoke urgently to Carlisle, as I continued to cry uselessly.

"Carlisle, she needs stitches. Probably quite a few. Her arm is infected, which is probably why the wound isn't healing."

Carlisle gave me stitches. Edward held me. I cried.

"Edward, why don't you take Bella to our house. I'll clean up the bathroom, so it won't scare Charlie when he comes home."

Edward took off without a word, me tightly tucked in his arms.

Edward didn't stop running until we were in his room, on his bed. That was when I saw his face. I had seen him worried before, lots of times. But his face was beyond worried, beyond panicked. His eyes were jet black, hysteric. His hair was wild, flying in all directions. My blood was smeared on his clothes. His jaw was tense, making his whole face look hard and dead. I will do whatever it takes to never make him look like this again, I vowed. From now on his happiness is my number one priority.

"Edward, I'm so—"

He cut me off "Shh, Bella. Not right now, I need space."

He got off the bed and walked around the room, pacing.

I stayed quiet, not knowing what would happen next.

Suddenly, he stopped pacing, and his fist collided with the wall, punching a hole through it. The loud crack made me jump.

"Damn it, Bella!" he shouted.

I gasped, his outburst surprised me.

He looked at me once he heard my surprised sound. Immediately, his granite face softened.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Bella. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm so sorry."

He came over and sat next to me on the bed. I leaned against him, and his arms wrapped around me. We stayed like that for a long time, neither of us speaking.

Finally he broke the silence.

"You cut your arm on purpose?" He questioned. His voice was not angry like I expected. It was a gentle whisper.

I nodded.

"But- wh- I don't understand. Why would you do something like that to yourself?"

I shrugged.

His voice was a whisper. It's so low, I almost missed it. "I messed up, didn't I? When I left. I hurt you so badly. I'm so sorry, Bella. God, I want to take everything back. I'm so sorry."

I wanted to tell him that he didn't mess up, that I was alright. But I kept my mouth shut. I was sick of lying.

He didn't speak for the rest of the night, and neither did I. He just held me, probably tighter than he ever had before, until I sank blissfully into unconsciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

I was sitting in the bathroom. There was blood everywhere. It seeped in from under the door, it dripped from the ceiling. I stood up, confused. What happened in here? There was a large pool of red at my feet, I stepped over it as I headed for the door. The door handle wouldn't move, it wouldn't even jiggle, it was locked. That was strange. I banged on the door and called for Charlie. No one came.

Blood gushed into the bathroom a little quicker now. It oozed from the drywall, poured from the sink, slid down the mirror. In only a few minutes it coated every surface. I tried cleaning it up even though I knew it was a wasted effort. The blood kept coming, covering the areas I'd just cleaned.

I heard a bang, and then the door opened. Edward stood in the hall, his face stoic. "Oh, thank God, Edward! I thought I was stuck in here!" He didn't respond, his face remained distant. All of a sudden his head snapped up, and he looked me directly in the eye. The corners of his mouth lifted, giving me an evil grin. He turned around and disappeared, locking the door behind him.

"Edward, come back!" I called out.

He didn't come.

Suddenly, blood flooded everywhere. It rose from the tiles, it showered from the ceiling. The room became a pool of blood. The blood rose and rose until it was at my knees, and then rose until it reached my shoulders.

"Edward, help!" I tried to scream, but blood poured into my throat, choking me.

The blood continued to fill the room, and there was nothing I could do. Soon, blood filled all the way to the ceiling, and I drowned.

Cold hands gripped my shoulders, gently shaking me. I opened my eyes. Edward leaned over me, his face rigid and hard. His expression reminded me of the way he looked in my dream, stoney and distant. I flinched away, but relaxed once I saw his eyes. They were not dead, like in my nightmare, they bursted with emotion. His eyes were a dark gold, almost brown color. They were vivid, lively with anxiety. His eyes squinted around the edges, setting his face into a distressed expression.

"Bella?" He whispered. "Are you alright?"

I didn't respond.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

I kept my mouth shut.

"Won't you please talk to me?"

Instead of saying anything, I wrapped my arms around him and bursted into tears. I was awfully weepy lately. It bothered me that I was unable to hold in my emotions. I cried and cried, and then I cried some more because I couldn't seem to help myself. I let it all out all the pain, all the embarrassment, all the things I've kept locked inside since he left.

Edward held me, and that was really all that I needed. I was just relieved to have him with me.

I dozed on and off throughout the rest of the night, not really getting much sleep. When it was finally morning, I was relieved to be able to get out of bed and forget about last night. I felt uncomfortable with the fact that I was so vulnerable. I just wanted to get on with the day and put that behind me.

"Am I going to school today?" I asked.

"No." He replied.

"Does Charlie know where I am?"

He sighed. "Yes, we took care of it. Esme called him last night and asked him if you would be able to go on a vacation to Florida with the family for a week. She told Charlie that Emmett was unable to make the trip, so they had an extra airline ticket. Charlie agreed."

"Does your whole family know what happened?" I asked, embarrassed.

"Yes. They left early this morning to go hunting and give us some privacy—well, everyone except for Carlisle, he's still here. The family will be back later tonight."

He made me breakfast, and when I tried to protest, he silenced me with a cold glare. I decided that I was in enough trouble as it was, and shut up. I shoveled a few bites of food into my mouth, even though it made me sick. I didn't hide the disgust on my face.

Edward handed me a pill and a glass of water.

"I don't take anti-depressants, Edward. I'm not depressed." I announced. He stared at me for a minute, studying my face. Finally he spoke. "It's not an anti-depressant. It's an antibiotic. Your arm is infected."

Oh. Right. I forgot about that. I decided to shut up and swallow the pill.

"When you're done with breakfast, let's talk in the living room." He said, his voice authoritative.

"I'm done," I said as I got up. In a flash, he was beside me.

"You're not done. Eat."

I took another bite, cringing as I felt the pile of food slide down my throat. Sometimes, eating felt alien to me, like it was an action my body wasn't designed to do. Eating is kind of weird to think about. I mean, you put a pile of goop inside a hole on your face, you mash up the goop with these bones that jut out of your gums, you moisten the goop with some sort of solution that secretes from the back of your throat, and then you force the goop down a tube to be digested. That's messed up.

I couldn't eat more. I just couldn't. "Please, Edward? I can't eat anymore. I'm done."

He let me get up this time, although he wasn't happy about it.

Edward followed me into the living room. I sat on the couch, and he sat across from me on the loveseat. I decided to get off the couch and crawl next to him. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders in a tight hug.

"Bella?"

I didn't want to respond. I just wanted to sit with him.

"Come on, Bella. We've got to talk now. Tell me what's going on." I could hear frustration in his voice.

"Edward, I-I'm sorry. . .that you had to see me like that. With all the blood. Was it hard for you?"

His voice was harsh, like a whip striking my face. "That was the hardest thing I've ever done. I can't do that again."

I scooted away from him, hurt. "I shouldn't have called you. It was unfair of me to ask you to deal with my blood. I should have taken care of it myself. I-"

"That's not what I meant. I didn't mean that you shouldn't have called me. I'm glad that you did— so glad. I can't even think about what would have happened if I wasn't there. It makes me sick."

"Then what did you mean? Why was it the hardest thing you've ever done?" I asked.

"I didn't mind being around your blood, the scent didn't bother me at all. But the sight of you— on the floor like that, dying. That was hard for me. That was torture. And then when I figured out that you did that to yourself on purpose. . . I-I that broke my heart. I have almost lost you so many times— I just got you back. I can't understand why you would do something like that, why you would want to leave me like that." His voice broke at the end. I snuggled back up to him, trying to comfort him. He relaxed slightly at my touch, though he was still very rigid. He was upset. That was clear. His eyes were cold, his voice broken. I thought he might be on the verge of crying, if that were possible.

"I wasn't trying to kill myself. I promise. I'm sorry if I scared you."

He grabbed my arms and pulled up my sleeves, showing me the scars that decorated my skin.

"Why do you have these, then, if you weren't trying to kill yourself? Do you do it for fun? Does it feel good? Help me understand why you would do something so gruesome."

"You're not going to like the answer," I warned.

"Good. The truth hurts. I want the truth." 

I took a deep breath. "When you left, I was really, really hurt. More than hurt, I was. . . mutilated. You left without a trace, and took everything with you. You showed me this whole world— one I never knew existed— and then you took it away. You showed me a future, you promised me I could share it with you— and then you took that, too. There was so much pain, everyday, all day. I couldn't escape my misery. So I found a way to make it bearable. I took the pain that was inside and I put it on the outside. I wasn't suicidal, even then. I was just looking for an escape."

I looked up at Edward after I gave my little speech. The look that he gave me is frightening. I was expecting him to be angry or upset. But he just looked at me like he didn't even know me, like he had never seen me before.

"Do I even want to ask how long you've been doing this?" He questioned.

"Since October." I responded.

Edward closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.

To be honest, it felt good to let it all out. It was scary— terrifying— to be so honest and vulnerable, and I was half expecting him to just get up and leave. But some part of me was relieved to not hold this in anymore. It felt kind of good to take the pain I had been holding inside and give it to someone else.

His voice was a whisper. "What about the eating? Why don't you eat anymore?"

"That happened too, when you left. I really haven't figured out why. I don't do it on purpose, I'm not trying to lose weight or anything. I just can't. . . I don't know. . . find the desire to eat anymore."

He was upset by my answer, but seemed to accept it.

"Are you going to keep doing this?" He asked, his voice very serious.

Honestly, I hadn't thought about that. What was I going to do now? Edward would want me to stop, I was sure of it. But did I want to stop? I wasn't certain. I guess some part of me wanted to. I wanted to make Edward happy, appease him. I also just wanted to stop being so dependent on pain. I knew I needed to heal, I needed to get over this, I needed to stop. But another part of me didn't think I could do it. I needed the pain to survive.

I shrugged.

Edward was surprised by my response, his face became angry instantly. "Let me rephrase that; You are going to stop. I'm not giving you an option." His voice was dark, frightening.

I really didn't like it when he bossed me around. I mean, yeah, I knew I should stop. I knew it was dangerous, but it was my body. I should be able to do whatever I wanted with it.

"No" I said stubbornly.

Suddenly he towered over me. He grabbed my face in his hands, maybe a little too harshly, and forced me to look at him.

"Isabella Marie Swan. You. Will. Stop. Doing. This. Right. Now." His face was livid.

"Nope," I replied.

"You don't have a choice, I won't let you harm yourself. I will be there every second of the day. I will stop you every time you harm yourself. I will make sure you eat. I will make sure you sleep. I will make sure you that you stay alive."

"You can't stop me from doing anything," I responded.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I updated the last four chapters, so there are a few (tiny) things that may not make 100% sense to you if you read the older versions. But they're very minute, so you probably won't even notice. Please keep reviewing and following!**

Edward and I spent the rest of the morning watching movies and snuggling on the couch. He never brought up my cutting or eating problems, and I was very thankful for that. I knew the discussion was far from over, though.

"Bella, come into my office for a minute, please," Carlisle called to me from upstairs.

I looked at Edward, my face bashful. I didn't want to spill all of my secrets to Carlisle— what would he think of me? Would he not want me to join his family?

Edward noticed my discomfort and came over to me, placing his hand lightly on my cheek. "Would you like me to go with you, Love?" He kindly asked. I nodded, relieved. Edward took my hand and led me upstairs to Carlisle's office. He sat next to me on the little couch across from Carlisle's desk.

"Bella, I'd like to help you recover from your problems— the whole family would like to support you through this. Will you please let us help you?" Carlisle asked. I buried my head into Edward's shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around my waist comfortingly. That would be embarrassing, getting the whole family involved. I wished they would just leave me alone. I reluctantly nodded my head though, because I knew they were not going to take no for an answer.

"Good, Bella. We're all happy to help," Carlisle responded with a smile. "The family left last night, as you probably realized, to give us some privacy as we figure this out. But when they come back, you will have their full support, I guarantee it. If you need to talk to someone, any of the Cullens will listen. I myself would like to help you— as both a doctor and your future father. I have experience with this sort of thing— I spent many years working in an asylum. I met many people who had similar problems as you. I would love to help you get through this."

Edward spoke, "What is the plan, Carlisle? She needs help. Should she go to a hospital? Therapy? Should she stay with us until she is well again?"

"I think Bella should decide for herself, Edward."

They turned to me waiting for a response. "Um. . . can't I just. . .not do anything?"

Edward spoke, suddenly angry. "Bella, I'm not going to sit here and watch you hurt yourself. You're going to get help. You're going to stop. I'll make sure of it."

Carlisle shot Edward a warning look. "Bella, you need help. You may not see the danger that you're putting yourself in, but the people around you see it. When you hurt yourself last night, you also hurt Edward and the rest of the family. We care about you and want you to get better."

They were going to make me get help: force me into therapy or send me to a hospital. I refused to let that happen.

"What if I agreed to help, just not from a stranger? Didn't Edward go to medical school? Didn't he study psycology? Is it possible for Edward to be my psychologist? I would feel better talking to him than anyone else."

Carlisle and Edward exchanged a look. I could tell they were having a mental conversation. After a moment Edward nodded.

"Alright, Love, you don't have to go see a therapist or a doctor as long as you cooperate with us as we try to help you. You have to talk and really try your best, or this won't work. If I feel that you aren't progressing, I will get another doctor involved, alright?" I nodded enthusiastically, relieved that I would not have to suffer through therapy with some stranger. "And Carlile will still check in with us, okay? Just to make sure everything is alright." I nodded.

"Am I going to stay here with you guys?" I asked.

"You should stay with us for the week, until we return from our 'vacation'. After a that, we'll see how you're progressing and go from there. If you are ready to go home, then you can go back."

"Okay," I responded.

"Why don't we take a look at your arm right now, see how you're healing, alright?" Carlisle asked.

I rolled up my sleeves, but didn't look at my arms. Edward's hands squeezed into fists once he saw the scars, but relaxed after a second. I dazed out as they worked on my skin, dabbing it with antiseptic and covering it with bandages. I listened to Edward's voice as he talked to Carlisle about medical stuff— I wasn't listening to what he was saying, just listening to the tenor of his velvet voice.

Edward sat me at the kitchen table after the meeting with Carlisle. "What would you like for dinner, Bella?" I grunted, unhappy with having to choke down another meal today. "Anything's fine with me," I growled.

"That's the spirit," Edward mumbled as he bagan food preparations.

He made spaghetti, and even prepared a homemade sauce rather than just using the stuff from the can. I swallowed my food without chewing it, hoping that I wouldn't taste it. After a few bites, I felt that I was going to be sick.

"Edward, I'm sick. I can't eat any more." I stood up, but Edward wouldn't let me off the hook so easily. "You're going to finish your dinner, Bella. You have to eat."

"No, I'm done," I said, stubbornly.

Edward grabbed my face gently in his hands, forcing me to look at him. "Bella, you have to cooperate, remember? If you do not wish to see a psychologist or go to a hospital, then you have follow my guidance. Now please finish eating."

I scooped up another pile of grub unhappily. Ugh, noodles? The texture was disgusting. It was like swallowing slimy yarn. And the flavor was repulsive— bland and and rubbery, but covered in a potent tomato sauce. I tried swallowing, but the strings got caught in my throat.

"Please, Edward?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't make me eat anymore. He shook his head with a frustrated expression.

Ugh, why did he have to make this so hard? I didn't want to eat. Why couldn't he just let me be finished? If he was going to be difficult, then so was I.

I threw myself off the chair and sprinted to the kitchen sink, where I plunged a finger down my throat. Edward was beside me a second later, his hand pulling my finger out of my mouth. But it was too late— I was sick. Edward stayed with me as I hurled out my guts, holding back my hair and rubbing my back. I tried shoving him away, but he wouldn't budge.

I rinsed my mouth out with water once I was done, trying to remove the sour taste.

Edward's hands left my back for a second. Before I had time to turn around, he was holding out my toothbrush and toothpaste.

"To get rid of the taste." He explained.

"I figured."

I brushed my teeth, and then brushed again, making sure my mouth was clean of all remnants of barf. Then Edward gently picked me up and carried me upstairs, setting me on his bed.

When I looked up at his face, I noticed the sadness in his eyes. His whole face looked worn and tired. I felt immediately guilty for making him so upset.

"Sorry," I apologized.

He shook his head. "It's not your fault."

I gave him a strange look. "It is my fault. I did it on purpose."

"It's not your fault." He repeated.

"Then whose is it?" I questioned.

Edward's face became pained. "Mine." He whispered.

I shook my head. He was wrong.


	6. Chapter 6

"My turn," Emmett announced, collecting everyone's cards.

We were playing Apples to Apples. All the Cullen kids were gathered in a circle on the living room floor, laughing at the nonsense card selections. I felt normal, sitting around with everyone. Except every once in a while, someone would shoot me a look, like they suddenly remembered why I was here. I tried to not let it bother me.

I let out a yawn. "Bedtime for the human?" Edward asked.

I shook my head. "Not yet. For once I'm winning."

"Not for long. You're going down." Emmett announced with a wide smile.

We played cards for hours, until my eyes could not stay open anymore. Then Edward led me upstairs and waited patiently for me to get ready for bed.

I snuggled next to his cool body, and waited for sleep to take me.

"Are you angry at me?" I questioned.

Edward pulled me closer. "I could never be angry at you."

"Then how do you feel? You keep asking me how I feel, but I never ask you how you're feeling. I haven't exactly made things easy on you."

Edward sighed. "Please don't worry about me."

"I've pulled you into my problems. It's only fair that you pull me into yours."

Edward kissed my head. "First of all, you haven't pulled me anywhere. I love you, I just want you to be happy again. It upsets me, what you're doing. . . more than that— it terrifies me. I'm used to watching outside forces hurt you, but the biggest threat to you is yourself— and that is terrifying. I can't lose you, I just can't. . ." His voice broke. "You asked me how I feel, so let me tell you: I feel love. You occupy every corner of my heart. The only thing I feel is this blinding love. Maybe this is selfish of me to say, but I need you to stay with me. I'll do whatever it takes for you to just stay. . ."

I pressed my lips to his, trying to kiss away his pain. He surprised me by twisting his body so that he hovered above me. I could feel every inch of his body pressed into mine. Then he deepened the kiss, his hands tangling in my hair, his lips urgent on mine. I pulled away, lightheaded, and gulped in a breath of air. His lips traveled down my throat, causing me to moan. Edward pulled away, as if suddenly remembering that he was violating his rules. I let out an unhappy grunt.

"You should try to sleep." Edward said.

I rolled my eyes.

Edward chuckled, and then started humming my lullaby. I was asleep within seconds.

* * *

><p>Esme cooked me breakfast. To say that she had outdone herself was an understatement. She made eggs, french toast, bacon, and pancakes. The food did not look especially appetizing, but I could tell she put a lot of work into it. I didn't want to eat it, but I felt guilty by refusing.<p>

"Thanks for breakfast, Esme." I said tentatively.

"You're welcome, Bella. I'll be in the living room if you need anything else."

I gave her a smile.

"Edward, do I have to eat all of this?" I asked.

He sighed. "Not all of it, but a little."

I sat down at the table and studied the food in front of me. Why was this so hard? Eating was supposed to be a basic human instinct. Why was I so repulsed by this?

I scooped up a pile of scrambled eggs and slowly brought the fork to my lips. Tears welled in my eyes as I prepared to put it into my mouth. Edward came over upon seeing my wet eyes, and kissed me on the cheek.

"Let's find an easier way, okay? Carlisle can give you nutrients through—"

"I don't want needles, I don't want tubes. I can do this." Tears spilled out of my eyes and rolled down my cheeks.

I was about to put the fork in my mouth, but Edward snagged it away. Before I had time to think, he popped it into his mouth. I was shocked. Did he just eat that?

"I'll eat with you, okay? You eat some, I eat some." He said as he wiped away my tears.

"You don't have to do that." I said.

"I want to. I forgot how delicious human food was." He joked. The corners of my lips turned up.

"Okay. Now it's your turn." He said as he cut off a piece of french toast. He skewered the chunk with the fork and very slowly brought it to my lips. It tasted like a piece of sewage, but I smiled and said, "Oh, you're right. It's absolutely scrumptious." Edward smiled, clearly pleased that this game was getting me to eat.

I scooped up some eggs and placed it in Edward's mouth. He chewed it and then let out an obnoxiously loud groan, "Ahhh, this is the best thing I've ever tasted. Even better than your blood." He declared, causing me to giggle.

We ate breakfast like that: feeding each other and pretending that it was the best tasting food in the whole world. With each bite we got a little more ridiculous, groaning and going on about how delicious the cuisine was. We spent more time giggling than actually eating, but it felt good just to laugh. It seemed like forever since I had a good laugh.

We only ate a small portion of the food, but it was more than I had eaten in weeks. I smiled, happy that I was making progress. Esme came into the kitchen, and she looked like she was about to cry. She kissed each of us on the head and went to do the dishes. Edward and I helped.

After breakfast, I made my way upstairs to take a shower. The first thing I noticed when I stepped into the bathroom was my reflection. I gasped. How long have I looked like this? My cheeks were hollow, my skin was gray. I looked like I was all skin and bones. How have I not noticed this? I looked like the walking dead. I noticed the scale in the corner of the bathroom and decided to step on it, just to see exactly how much I weighed. The number that flashed on the screen startled me. 98.1 pounds. I felt a tear trickle down my cheek. If I didn't believe that I had a problem before, than I recognized it now. I looked at the scars on my thin wrists, and was immediately disgusted. How could Edward love me when I looked like this? I was disgusting.

I felt true hatred for myself. For putting Edward through this, for not taking care of myself. I was angry, so angry. I looked in the shower, and there, sitting on the ledge of the tub was my release. I was surprised— shocked— that they would leave a razor in the shower like that. Were they testing me? Did they trust me? I wasn't sure. I decided that I had let them down a million times before, so why should this time be any different?

I placed the razor on my wrist and pressed down. All of the anger that I felt disappeared, like a wave erasing footprints on a beach. It felt so good that I did it again, and again, maring up my skin. Suddenly, I was not alone in the bathroom anymore— suddenly, I was not in the bathroom at all. Cold hands pressed down on my arm, gauze wrapped around my wrist. I looked up and saw a pair of very sad, very disappointed gold eyes. And just like that, the hatred I felt earlier rushed back, reminding me that the relief was temporary, and the pain was permanent. I did not deserve the kindness of these people gathered around me, I did not deserve the sadness in their eyes. I did not deserve anything.


	7. Chapter 7

Edward refused to look at me for the rest of the day. It wasn't that he was ignoring me, he spent every minute with me; whether to comfort me or watch me, I wasn't sure. But he never quite looked me in the eyes. When I spoke to him, his eyes would travel from my forehead to my chin, to my nose, to my cheeks. Around and around his eyes rolled, but they never quite met my eyes. To be honest, this sort of pissed me off. I mean, if he didn't want to be near me, then why didn't he just leave, and save me the heartache? Did he refuse to leave because he felt responsible for my condition? Was he going to leave again once I was better? Maybe I should stop trying to get better, just so that he stayed. The questions floating around in my head were the worst part about Edward leaving. Our relationship used to be so clear to me; everything was black and white. My life was completely guided by my love for Edward, and his love for me. But he muddled everything when he left. I constantly doubted myself, doubted my relationship, and doubted his intentions. I was stuck in this in-between place, where I sort of believed his proclamations of undying love for me, and sort of felt like it was all a load of crap.

For dinner, Esme made chicken and rice. It used to be one of my favorite meals— its simple flavors always comforted me. But I was in no mood to go anywhere near that food today.

When Esme told me that dinner was ready, I skipped going to the kitchen and headed straight for the living room, plopping myself on the couch and turning on the T.V.

"Would you like to eat dinner in the living room, Bella?" Esme asked.

"Nope." I replied, my voice oozing disgust.

"Well then, you'd better head into the kitchen before your food gets cold." Esme said, trying to politely get me to eat.

I pretended that I couldn't hear her.

Finally Edward cut in. "Bella, go into the kitchen and try to eat something." His voice was controlled, but assertive. I could tell that he had no patience for my behavior.

I pretended that I couldn't hear him either.

Cold arms scooped me off the couch and set me at the kitchen counter within a second. I grunted unhappily.

"Fuck off, Edward." I said, extremely angry at him. I had never sworn at him before, and I regretted it immediately. His face fell, his eyes holding that ancient sadness in them.

He didn't respond, just placed a fork in my hand and waited for me to eat. I made no intention of eating, and Edward quickly took note of this. "Bella. Eat." He commanded, his face just inches from mine. I held perfectly still, keeping my face completely expressionless. I refused to acknowledge him when bossed me around like this.

Suddenly, the kitchen exploded. "BELLA," Edward roared, "EAT THE DAMN FOOD." I flinched away from him. "Just put the food into your mouth and swallow it. I don't care that you don't want to eat it. Just swallow the food. It's not hard."

I shot out of my seat. "Shut up, Edward. Just shut the fuck up. Can't you see how PAINFUL this is for me? If it was as simple as just putting food in my mouth and swallowing, then I wouldn't be having this problem. It HURTS to eat. It makes me _sick_. I'm sorry that I can't please you 24/7, Edward. I'm sorry that I'm such a fuckup. Why don't you just LEAVE again, if I'm such a pain in the ass? That's what you always do, isn't it? You leave and put all the problems on me." I was crying. Angry, frustrated, confused tears flowed down my cheeks in hot streams.

Edward looked disoriented, as If he just woke up on a foreign planet. His jaw was hinged open, his tongue dripping dumbly out the side of his mouth. For the first time in hours, he looked me directly in the eye.

"Is that what you think?" He asked, his voice much quieter.

I nodded.

I half expected him to sweep me into his arms, to brush away my tears, to tell me that he was sorry and that he loved me. But he did none of those things. He simply disappeared, the front door swinging closed behind him. I crumpled to the floor. His departure was like a semi hitting me at 100 miles an hour. I felt my body disintegrate on impact.


	8. Chapter 8

"I'm going to murder that son of a bitch. I'm going to rip him into little tiny pieces and throw him into an incinerator," Alice proclaimed.

It was 3 o'clock in the morning. I was laying face down on Alice's bed, tears dripping out of my eye ducts in a continuous stream, as they had throughout the night. I briefly wondered whether I was going to become dehydrated due to losing so much water. There was a huge wet spot on the pillow under my face, but I didn't bother moving to a drier patch.

My mind was racing. I wanted it to stop. All I could think about was Edward's angry face as we argued in the kitchen. Was this our breaking point? Did Edward never want to see me again?

Alice and Esme had stayed with me throughout the night, rubbing my shoulders and reassuring me that Edward would be back any minute, he just needed a second to cool off. Well, it had been a second. It had been many seconds, and Edward was still missing. Emmett, Jasper, Carlisle, and Rosalie had left hours ago, trying to track him down. This only made me feel worse, everyone looking for a man that clearly didn't want to come back.

3:30 rolled around, and then 4:00. There was still no word from Edward.

I tried to go to sleep. Unconsciousness would have been a blessing. But my eyes refused to close and my mind refused to rest.

At 5:00 I got out of bed, threw up, and crawled back under the covers. This scared Alice and Esme. I was unfazed; I was used to throwing up. Besides, nothing could bother me tonight, not with Edward gone.

I was finally, finally, drifting off into sleep when I heard commotion from downstairs.

"Bella, he's back." Alice said softly. I didn't move, too many emotions flowed through me.

"Emmett and Jasper are keeping him downstairs, but he wants to come and see you. Will you let him?" Alice asked. I nodded.

A second later the commotion downstairs stopped and there was a knock on the door.

Alice got the door. "Don't treat her like that again, Edward. She deserves better." Alice whispered as she left the room.

It was quiet for a minute. Edward stood by the door. I laid face down on the bed.

"Bella?" Edward called. His voice was gentle, so soft I almost didn't hear it.

A sob broke from my chest when I heard his voice.

He came over in a heartbeat, his hand stroking my back with the lightest touch.

That just made me cry harder.

I could tell he was conflicted. One part of him wanting to scoop me into his arms, the other part unsure if I wanted space.

I didn't know what I wanted, either. And that made it all the worse.

"Bella?" He called again, using that same gentle tone. "I'm so sorry, Sweetheart. If I would have known that this would have upset you so much, I never would have left."

Everything was silent for a minute. The only sounds were my quiet sobs and heavy breathing.

"Shh, Bella. Please, what can I do?" Edward finally asked, his voice strained.

I shook my head.

Edward let out a sigh. "I was wrong before. I shouldn't have said any of those things to you. Sometimes I just want the best for you so much that I end up _not_ doing what's best for you."

"I don't like it when you boss me around," I mumbled into the pillow.

"I know, Sweetheart. I'll try to be less controlling." There was a brief pause. "Will you. . . will you come into my room tonight?" He asked.

I thought about it for a second. Then I nodded.

Edward gently picked me up and carried me to his room at human pace. It felt good to be in his arms, like finally going home. I grabbed onto his shirt and let out a sob. When Edward laid me on the bed, I refused to let go of him, pulling him as close as I possibly could.

"I missed you," I sobbed.

"Oh, Bella. I missed you, too," he said as he kissed my forehead.

"I didn't think you were coming back." I admitted. I felt Edward stiffen before he lightly crushed me into his chest.

"Sweetheart, I'll always come back. I'll never leave you. Never again."

I was desperate to believe him, but I couldn't.

"How can I trust you? How can I know that you'll come back?"

He sighed, letting out air with the sound like a hiss. "I don't know how I can prove to you that I'll never leave you. I suppose that my actions tonight didn't reassure you. If only you could experience how I feel. I'm too weak to ever leave you again. I need to be near you."

"Then why did you leave?" I asked.

He pressed his face into my neck, giving me shivers. "Bella, what you said to me in the kitchen was all so true. It upset me. What you said made me realize that I _don't _know what you're going through. I _don't _know how to make things better. I wish I did. I wish I could make this all go away. But I have to live with my choices. I have to live with the pain I've caused you. I love you, and I'm sorry."

"I wanted to cut myself," I admitted. "But I was too upset to get out of bed." Edward growled low into my ear.

"I hate that you hurt yourself because of me. I deserve a thousand cuts. I deserve to burn in hell for the pain I've caused you."

"Don't say that, Edward," I scolded. "You don't deserve that."

He kissed my hair. "My sweet, sweet Bella," he crooned.

I knew we had a lot more to say to each other, but that would just have to wait until tomorrow. I felt my eyes close, so I snuggled into Edward's chest and let myself fall into sleep.


End file.
